Recovery
by PSU93Girl
Summary: After a particularly troubling case, Michael and Fiona seek comfort from each other. You know what that means! Yep, major smut ahead.  I've decided to just make this a 1-shot.  I'm hoping to write some Season 4 stuff very soon so look for that!


_A/N: I'd been meaning to write this fic since the show returned in January but I never got around to it. So I'm writing it now. It takes place at some point during Season 3.5; I'll leave it up to my wonderful readers to decide where it fits best._

_I went back and forth between writing this in third person and first person, and I finally settled on first person. I was going to have a second chapter from Fi's POV but I decided to just leave it as a one shot._

_And yeah, there is going to be a LOT of smut here._

_If I owned these wonderful characters I'd be down in Miami filming Season 4 right now._

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I sat in the Charger in the courtyard outside my loft, dialing her number yet again.

"It's Fi, leave a message." I'd been calling her for the better part of an hour now, always getting her voicemail. It brought back memories of searching for her in a rainstorm, thinking she was dead.

I hung up the phone and sighed. This has been a horrible case. A child had been kidnapped and in the course of his rescue he'd been injured. He was safely back with his parents now and would be OK but the sight of a small child covered in blood had shaken Sam, Fiona, and me. His parents were very grateful to have him back but it didn't change the sickness in our stomachs.

Sam had run off to Miss Reynolds. He'd find comfort from her—and probably some kind of alcohol—and sleep peacefully tonight.

I knew where I could find comfort. There was only one person who could even begin to provide me the escape and release I needed.

Unfortunately she was also the one person who wouldn't see me right now.

I had seen it in her eyes when she looked at me before walking off, ignoring me when I called her name. I could—and had—endured all kinds of injuries but they were nothing compared to the pain of seeing the shock and hurt in Fiona's eyes.

She had held it together in front of the parents as they thanked us for getting their young son back. I had pretended not to notice her hand grasping my wrist, her nails digging into my skin as we talked to them. That was just one clue that she was far from OK.

After Sam left I had driven Fiona back to where we had left her car. She got out of the Charger without a word. I followed her.

"Michael, please, just let me go," she had said when she heard me walking behind her.

"Fi, I think we should talk about this," I replied, wishing she would turn around and look at me.

When she did I was stunned by the look on her face. The tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. I understood why she wanted me to let her go—Fiona Glenanne hated crying in front of anyone.

I started to reach for her but she pulled away, walking quickly towards her car and ignoring my repeated calls for her to come back.

I drove around for what seemed like hours but I really had no idea how long it had been, eventually trying to reach Fi on her cell phone. That effort being unsuccessful, I fought the urge to drive to her apartment and pointed the Charger towards my loft.

Resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to answer my call and I wasn't going to get to comfort her—or get comfort from her—I climbed the steps to the loft. I unlocked the door and entered, laying my keys on the workbench and not bothering to turn on any lights.

I stripped my shirt off and threw it on the stool as I made my way to the refrigerator. I wasn't paying attention to anything other than my quest for yogurt. This was a very dangerous thing for a spy.

I didn't notice the missing yogurt or see the bag on the floor near the door.

I sat on the bed as I ate the yogurt, trying to think of anything but the events of the day. It wasn't the first time a client had been injured during a job but it had never happened to a child before. I sighed as I finished the last bite of yogurt.

As I moved to throw the empty container in the trash I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I didn't think much of it; things were constantly moving past the balcony, from birds in the sky to boats out on the river.

Seeing the shadow a second time made me start to take notice and when I heard a muffled sob I froze in my tracks.

It couldn't be.

I slowly made my way to the balcony, hoping beyond hope that it was true.

Sticking my head just slightly out of the balcony door (how had I not noticed that it was partially open?) I saw her. She was silhouetted in the moonlight but I could clearly see tears staining her face.

Her eyes were red and puffy as she leaned on the railing. If she knew I was there she gave no indication.

I stood for a few moments, just watching her. I knew her well enough that I could almost hear the inner struggle that she was going through. I had been shaken by today's events but it was clear that she had been affected on a far deeper level.

I ached to hold her and offer some kind of comfort. But this was Fi—I had no idea how she might react to such an attempt and I didn't really want to suffer a major internal injury.

When another sob tried to escape her lips I couldn't resist. I headed outside.

"What took you so long Michael?" she asked, wiping her face and turning away in an effort to conceal her crying.

"I was looking for you, Fi. I was worried about you," I told her.

"He could have been killed Michael," she said, looking at me for the first time. The despair in her eyes just about killed me.

"But he wasn't Fi, he's going to be fine and most importantly he's back with his parents tonight. He's resting peacefully back in their care," I replied. I hoped if I kept talking something would sink in and the most important person in my life would find the answer she needed in my words.

She took a step towards me as I made my way over to the railing. We weren't big on hugging but I opened my arms, hoping she would allow me to offer comfort beyond mere words.

To my surprise she threw herself into my arms, her head crashing violently against my chest as her arms tightly encircled my back. I closed my arms around her, stroking her hair and whispering to her as she sobbed against my chest. I didn't know what else to do.

After some time—it could have been minutes or it could have been an hour, I couldn't tell—she settled down and her breathing became more regular. She lifted her head and I loosened my arms a bit so I could see her face.

Fiona looked up at me with a mixture of emotions in her eyes. But to my great relief most of the despair was gone. She looked more hopeful, more understanding, more resolved. I couldn't resist pressing a small kiss to her forehead.

Before I knew it her hands were in my hair and her lips were on mine, urgently kissing me as she wrapped her arms around my neck, trying to draw her body closer to mine than was possible. Her kisses were strong and passionate and she ground her hips against mine as her tongue traced the contours of my lips.

I knew what this was about and once upon a time there would have been no hesitation on my part. When Fiona and I met virtually all of the sex between us took place when the adrenaline of a just-completed job was still coursing through our veins.

We'd come home and one of us would throw the other against the door as soon as it was shut. In no time we'd both be naked and we'd join together hard and fast. It was passionate and violent and for a long time it was the basis for our entire relationship.

But things had changed since I came to Miami and reunited with Fiona. She wasn't just an asset anymore. I didn't just use her for information or tactical support or as a decoy for my real mission. Try as I might to avoid it, she had become important to me and if I was being honest with myself I had to admit I loved her.

I was brought back to the present by the feeling of her hands reaching for my belt. She frantically worked to unbuckle it as she continued kissing me, her tongue now meeting the tip of my own and causing me to shudder.

I wanted her; there was no doubt about that. Hell, I always wanted her. But something in me said this wasn't right. I pulled back and grasped her shoulders with my hands.

Fiona's eyes were shut tight as she continued to frantically work at my belt buckle. Her forehead rested against my shoulder. She was clearly resisting eye contact.

"Fi," I said, shaking her shoulders slightly. Her hands slowed at my belt but she still wouldn't pick up her head or open her eyes.

"Fiona, please, look at me," I continued, gently grasping her wrist with one hand and lifting her chin with the other. She finally stilled and allowed me to lift her head. She took a deep breath and then opened her eyes to look into mine.

"Michael, I need this," she told me.

I knew what she meant. I'd certainly been there many times myself. And many times it had been Fiona who had been there with me and who had helped me forget whatever it was that had gone wrong.

"Fiona, are you sure?" I asked her. I wanted it as badly as she did but things were so different now. Emotions were involved and our relationship wasn't just blowing things up and coming home to have sex anymore. We went on actual dates and we'd met members of each other's family.

Rather than answering me, she roughly grasped the back of my head, drawing me closer to her as her lips once again claimed mine. She kissed me hard, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth and running her tongue over it.

Her other hand finished unbuckling my belt and unbuttoning my pants. She continued kissing me, her tongue probing my mouth, desperation in every kiss. She was trying to forget.

My hands tangled in her hair as I started to give in to her desires, my own desire for her growing with each second. I held her tightly to me, wanting to give her the comfort she wanted.

Her hands slipped inside my pants and I bucked my hips against her as she grasped my hardening erection. She was an expert in driving me wild with her touches and despite the urgent and frantic pace we'd set this time she took her time working me into a frenzy.

She backed me up into the loft, her lips never leaving mine and her hands never leaving my hard cock. It was agonizing but I held back. We'd been here so often I knew what was required. Fiona wanted to be in control for now, and she'd cede control to me when she wanted comfort.

I lifted her dress over her head as she pulled my pants and boxers off. Her thong followed closely behind her dress, joining it on the floor as I pulled her naked body to mine and kissed her again.

"Fi," I started, but she kissed me to cut me off.

"Don't talk, Michael," she said against my mouth, her hands returning between my legs. She gently but firmly grasped my cock, slowly and expertly pumping as her other hand massaged my balls. I thrust my tongue forcefully against hers as she drove me wild.

My own hands made their way down her soft skin, flicking and plucking at her nipples as she moaned against my mouth and intensified her efforts between my legs. I ran my hands around her waist and down her back, firmly grasping her ass and pulling her tight against me.

Fiona gasped as my fingers found their way to her pussy. She was hot and wet and ready for me. I brushed her clit and she gasped, her hands continuing to pump my cock. I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

I continued working between her legs as she walked me backwards to the bed. My fingers were soaked as they continued to stroke her pussy, flicking against her swollen clit and teasing around her hot, wet entrance. She was moaning and her hips were writhing under my touch as she pushed me back onto the bed.

She kissed me roughly again and I quickly flipped her over so she was pinned under me. My fingers pumped in and out of her until I felt her orgasm building. I watched her face as she started to cum, moving my mouth to her breast as I felt the first waves of her orgasm wash over her. I took one nipple into my mouth as I felt her pulse around my fingers, switching to the other one as the waves subsided.

I knew what she needed next and by now I needed it too. This rough, detached, recovery sex hadn't happened between us in a long time and while I'd tried to resist it I had to admit I needed it too.

Fiona shifted under me, spreading her legs around my waist and using her heels to pull me closer. Her eyes were shut tight once again as she pulled me down and ground her hips into mine. My cock brushed against her inner thigh, making us both gasp and shudder.

I brushed the hair out of her face, leaned in to kiss her deeply, and positioned my cock at her entrance. She was slick and ready and when she lifted her hips slightly I drove into her with everything in me.

She came again almost immediately, moaning and writhing and grasping at my shoulders to steady herself.

I fiercely pumped in and out of her, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulders, and taking her nipples in my mouth. She ran her hands through my hair and down my body as I continued driving into her, my pubic bone crashing against her clit and threatening to send her over the edge again.

Fiona met my every stroke with one of her own, grinding against me. I stilled my motions for a few moments as she continued grinding against me. She was seeking release and I reached between us to stroke her clit and make her cum one more time.

When her body started to come down from her latest orgasm I pulled out of her, resting at her hot entrance before slowly sliding into her as far as I could. She wrapped her legs around my waist, trying to pull me even deeper inside her. I leaned back a little, trying to give her what she wanted, and she gasped.

Finally she opened her eyes to look into mine, and I saw in them the comfort I needed. She had gotten the comfort she needed and it was time for release.

I started pumping in and out of her—gently at first and slowly building up until I was fiercely pounding against her. She was moaning and with every moan I felt a spasm of pleasure shoot up my body.

She pulled me down for a kiss, her tongue swirling around my mouth. I continued pounding in and out of her, feeling her orgasm building once again and knowing my own wasn't far behind. A few more strokes and I fell apart, spilling inside her as she screamed and pulsed around me.

I collapsed into her arms, both of us frantically panting as we recovered from our orgasms. When she pulled me close for another kiss, it was forceful and passionate but it was different from our earlier kisses. Gone were the desperation and the need for comfort.

We lay together, passionately kissing; wordlessly thanking each other for the comfort we had just been given. The case finally behind us, we drifted off to sleep wrapped around each other.


End file.
